


In Bold Strokes

by Kooriicolada (WHM_Koorii)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Amaterasu's Blessed, Butsuma's A+ Parenting, Canon What Canon?, M/M, Red eyes are blessed, Slow Burn, Surprise! - Freeform, You don't need to know the other canon really, but only lightly, but taken to a New Extreme, minor Okami (game) crossover, no beta we die like men, sort of a crossover, wolf!tobirama, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-29 02:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHM_Koorii/pseuds/Kooriicolada
Summary: A sudden burst of irritation nearly overcame the feeling of being watched.  Just a few days ago he'd had his old hangout ruined, and had to repudiate a treasured friendship.  He was going to throw a fit if he had to give up this spot too.If it was—"Izuna?" he called.  He didn't feel threatened, just observed.  "If that's you I'm going to pummel you.  Everyone needs alone time!"
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama & Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 39
Kudos: 178





	1. First Brush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KeanBlade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeanBlade/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Pneuma](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712870) by [KeanBlade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeanBlade/pseuds/KeanBlade). 



> So, uh, full disclosure. I haven't touched the Naruto Canon (outside of reading some summaries) in.... a long time. I'm pretty unashamedly just taking the fanon I enjoy for this pairing and running away with it. So buckle up for that.
> 
> Regarding the slight crossover here I'm using some of the concepts from the game "Okami" wherein Amaterasu shows up as a wolf with red stripe-y markings and uses a celestial brush to Make Shit Happen. I'm also using the "Brush Gods" from the game for things, but literally nothing else is taken from it. You literally don't need to know anything else about that world.

There was someone watching him. Madara could  _ feel _ it. The gaze was intent, focused, crawling up his spine and settling at the base of his skull. He slowed his movement, new sharingan active and watching.  
  


His sandaled foot scratched softly against the dirt as Madara slowly lowered and spread his stance, defensive and waiting. The leaves overshadowing him rustled, but nothing moved. There was no birdsong but he didn't expect there to be. He'd been making enough of a commotion to drive away any animals.  
  


A sudden burst of irritation nearly overcame the feeling of being watched. Just a few days ago he'd had his old hangout ruined, and had to repudiate a treasured friendship. He was going to throw a  _ fit _ if he had to give up this spot too.  
  


If it was—   
  


"Izuna?" he called. He didn't feel  _ threatened _ , just observed. "If that's you I'm going to pummel you. Everyone needs alone time!"  
  


No answer. There was no way Izuna could resist being called out, let alone being threatened with a fight.   
  


"Come on," Madara jeered. "What are you waiting for? Too scared? I don't blame you, of course."  
  


A rustle in the underbrush had Madara turning on his heel and he found himself brought up short. There among the dense greenery of his new hideaway was a wolf. It was rangy with adolescence and fur white as fresh snow. It lifted it's head, black nose twitching and ears swiveled toward him.  
  


It was, perhaps, the Hatake that were most well known for their relation to wolves. They kept several packs on their lands, patrolling between their sprawling farmland and warming themselves by their fires. It was less well known that the reason the Uchiha didn't quarrel with the Hatake was that they held wolves  _ sacred _ . Legend, after all, said that their goddess, Mother Amaterasu, could take the form of a wolf when she descended from the realm of the gods.  
  


That there was a wolf  _ here _ . And so soon after they'd learned that one of those blessed with red eyes was the second son of Senju Butsuma. Until now, no one had caught the boy close enough to get a proper look at him. He'd seemed to simply take after his Hatake mother, but Izuna had come back with what he'd seen when they clashed: Bright red eyes.   
  


Maybe this, maybe finding a wolf here and now, was a good sign.  
  


"Are you a Hatake wolf?" Madara asked, keeping his stance cautious. Those white pointed ears swiveled back, then forward. Then, slowly, the wolf tilted it's head to the side. The movement seemed far too intentional to be a wild wolf, too intelligent. "What are you doing so far from their lands?"  
  


A pink tongue flicked out, licking across that black nose before the wolf stepped a little further out of the brush. The tail that followed after it was long and elegant and incongruously tipped with black as if it had been dipped in ink.  
  


Slowly, telegraphing his movements, Madara crouched down and held his hands out. The wolf stepped closer, head tilted aside as if it was ignoring Madara and only wandering in this direction for reasons of its own. Still, once it was close enough it deigned to lean forward and sniff at his outstretched hands. Whiskers tickled at Madara's palm, warm breath huffing against his skin. Then that cool nose touched his fingertips and for a moment Madara could feel a tiny flare of chakra— sun-warmed water— and then it was gone, leaving only a faint impression behind that faded no matter how he tried to cling to it.  
  


Suddenly, the wolf's head jerked up with its ears on the swivel. Madara had enough time to notice that the eyes that had looked liquidy and dark from a distance were actually  _ red _ and then the wolf was bounding away. Alone, Madara dropped onto his backside with a grin. Izuna was going to lose his mind. He'd been the most stung when he realized that Tobirama was  _ blessed _ .  
  


Thinking of Izuna had Madara scrambling to his feet. He took off at a full sprint back to the compound, bounding off logs and into the trees themselves. Instead of heading for the gate he ran up the wall and cleared it with a leap. He could hear the guards shouting after him, though he knew they'd recognized him by the lack of warning alarms.  
  


Madara ducked and wove around his clansmen and women until he reached the large, sprawling house where he lived with his brother and father. Inside, he yanked his sandals off and then was brought up short and abrupt by his father standing in the way. Izuna peered around at him as Father frowned at him.  
  


"Madara," he said forbiddingly. "Izuna said you went out into the forest alone again."  
  


"I didn't go to the river, Father. I meant what I said. I choose my family above all else."  
  


Father narrowed his eyes, but dipped his head in approval. He turned to go.  
  


"Father," Madara called, "I met a wolf. In the woods."  
  


Izuna made a soft little sound. He'd always been one of the most devout among the clan, clinging to tales of the gods' favor with a fervor that Madara couldn't quite understand. Father turned back toward him.  
  


"A white wolf," Madara went on, feeling a little breathless. "With red eyes."  
  


"Father," Izuna breathed.  
  


Father's eyes narrowed. He was, Madara knew, a practical man. A man that wasn't particularly given to the trappings of religion no matter how important. He preferred to focus on the present, on the people who needed his oversight now. But even he couldn't ignore this.  
  


"How auspicious," Father said. Then he nodded. "Take an offering tomorrow and leave it where you met the wolf."  
  


"Of course, Father."  
  


—   
  


It seemed almost unfair that the river flowed on, unchanging, despite Hashirama's upset. He'd come despite knowing that he would be in  _ severe _ trouble if he was caught, but unable to help himself. A small part of him had hoped that Madara would do the same. That no matter what had happened they could pick up where they'd left off.  
  


A sudden flash of movement on the opposite bank had Hashirama jerking his head up from his sulky stare into the water. A pale white wolf darted down the rocky shore, leapt across onto a rock in the middle of the river and then further to land just upstream from where he sat. Too surprised to move, Hashirama could only stare.  
  


"Tobirama!" he gasped. "What were you doing?"  
  


Legs stiff and tail still in a way that said he was fighting against the urge to wag it, Tobirama stalked toward him. It was as he drew close that Hashirama remembered he was still a little cross with him. That little ball of hurt and anger curled up a bit more. Tobirama had been in  _ Uchiha lands _ . Admittedly, part of it was definitely worry.  
  


With a huff, Tobirama sat down next to him and leaned his weight against Hashirama's side. Even as he did, he turned his head away as if to insist he was not, in fact, doing what he was doing. When he was like this, Hashirama just couldn't hold onto any anger at his little brother. Letting out a great sigh, just as theatrical as his other moods, Hashirama leaned back against the wolf and waited for Tobirama to want to speak.  
  


Most of the Senju thought that Tobirama's ability to become a wolf was from their mother's Hatake blood. Where Hashirama had gained the Mokuton, they reasoned, Tobirama had clearly taken more after their mother. But Hashirama knew differently. He had overheard Mother and Father arguing about it when they were younger. It had been just after Tobirama first became a wolf.  
  


Little Tobirama who'd apparently grown frustrated with learning to crawl and abruptly turned into a little ball of poofy white fur. Hashirama remembered being overjoyed as Tobirama stumped over to him on legs with paws far too big for him. (Paws that were, he thought, still far too big for Tobirama to know what to do with.)  
  


But Hashirama and Tobirama knew better. Mother had pulled them aside when Father began Tobirama's training and sat them down.  
  


'You must not tell anyone,' Mother said, 'but my people do not naturally become wolves.' It was, she told them, a high level Jutsu that allowed them to take on the form, not a bloodline. Mother had pulled Tobirama close, thumbs running over his cheeks just below his red eyes. 'The Hatake keep peace with the Uchiha, stopping them from burning our crops to drive us away, because we hold a secret,' she whispered to them, gathering them close. The Hatake were renowned for their neutrality. The reason that Mother had married Father was to keep that neutrality with the Senju, to keep the warring Senju and Uchiha from ever fighting on their lands.  
  


Then she'd said: 'We know that they hold wolves sacred, particularly our white wolves. More than that, we know they hold those with red eyes sacred.' And a sudden fear had struck Hashirama's heart. Wide eyed, he'd looked over at Tobirama's upturned face. Back then the Uchiha had been scary stories overheard and things that made Father rage. Mother had smiled at him, running a hand over his hair. 'I don't know what they would do with a Senju who was both,' she'd whispered. 'I don't know what your Father would do with this knowledge. You must keep your little brother safe, Hashirama.'  
  


With a low huff, Tobirama's form flowed beside him— seeming to be shadowed away by a warm light. It was as if the light of the sun itself obscured one's vision, blotting Tobirama out the way a cloud might shadow the sun. When the light faded the familiar frowning face of his little brother met him.  
  


"Tobi," Hashirama said, enjoying the reflexive grimace he got. "Why were you across the border?"  
  


Tobirama's face settled into a fierce scowl then huffed. It was so like the annoyed sound he made as a wolf that Hashirama smiled. "I didn't want to tell you," Tobirama said.  
  


Sometimes, it was like pulling teeth to get Tobirama to let him into his confidence. "You can tell me anything, otouto," Hashirama said.  
  


Tobirama looked askance, mouth flattening into a thin line. Hashirama recognized it as his ashamed face. "Your… friend." It was tentative, for Tobirama at least. Hashirama looked away. He'd been in a snit about it for a while and he knew it.  
  


"Yes?" he prompted.  
  


Something in his tone made Tobirama's shoulders pull tight and the warm line of him against Hashirama's side shifted away. Tobirama muttered, "I'm sorry."   
  


Letting out a long, heartfelt sigh, Hashirama collapsed against Tobirama to close the distance between them again. He could feel his brother squirm in irritation though there was a tension in him that said he was trying to hold still. Clearly, he was doing his best to accept his punishment.  
  


"It's alright. You were worried and you had to listen to Father." Tobirama grunted in agreement and they were quiet for a bit longer. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, Hashirama said, "You never said what you were doing over there."  
  


The question actually made Tobirama  _ fidget _ . "I said I didn't want to tell you," he grumbled. But his shoulders drooped as he gave in. "It doesn't make sense but I feel— No I  _ know _ that I know that Uchiha."  
  


The scowl on Tobirama's face was fierce.   
  


"What do you mean?"  
  


"It's as if I've known him for a long time but I've forgotten. He  _ feels _ familiar."  
  


"Ah." Hashirama contemplated that. It didn't make sense to him, not really, but he didn't have Tobirama's innate feeling for chakra either.  
  


"I went looking for him." The words were quiet, as if Tobirama were hoping that Hashirama wouldn't hear. Hashirama sucked in a sharp breath.   
  


"Of course you did," he said. "You can never leave anything alone."  
  


Tobirama scoffed and finally shoved Hashirama off of him. "Like you're one to talk, Anija. Sitting at the river waiting to get in trouble."  
  


Hashirama let himself fall to the rocky shore with a wide grin. His arms flopped out, spread wide as he stared up at the strip of sky above them. "Did you find him?"  
  


With a superior sniff, Tobirama said, "Yes. Of course."  
  


"And? How was he?" Hashirama asked eagerly.  
  


"Sulking as much as you, I think." Tobirama looked away, glaring at the river flowing along before them. "I know him. Why do I know him?"  
  


It would be hard to say that Tobirama had run into him in passing and if he'd run into him in battle he would remember him, surely.  
  


"You're going to go again, aren't you?" It was hard to swallow the pang of jealousy, but Hashirama did his best.  
  


Still looking away from him, Tobirama offered, "You want me to take a note to him?"  
  


Hashirama sat up so fast his head spun. "Would you?" Without even waiting for an answer he grabbed onto his brother and bore him down to the ground with a suffocating hug.  
  


"Yes! Didn't I just ask?" Tobirama fairly howled. He shoved at Hashirama ineffectually. "Let go!"  
  


"You're the best little brother anyone could ask for!"  
  


"Hashirama!"  
  


—  
  


Tobirama dreamt. No, that wasn't right. It was more like he'd slipped sideways when he lay down. Slipped into a world between waking and dreaming. He sat up slowly, settling cross-legged as he gazed up into a vast starscape. The first stirring of noise came from below him and he looked down. A great white stripe curled underneath of him, a ribbon of white fur and scales marked with crimson slashes. It swirled and churned until it breached the glassy floor on which he sat. Golden light poured off of them.  
  


A great dragon with pearls clutched in each great paw and a massive scroll held in the curl of their tail. They floated above him, grand head leaning down until their snout nearly touched Tobirama's forehead. The dragon's long whiskers drifted in a wind that he couldn't feel, ruffling the fur around the dragon's horns.  
  


"Amaterasu-Omikami, Mother to us all," the dragon intoned, their very voice seemed to shake the world around them. "Now that you are beginning to remember yourself I, Yomigami, god of restoration, have come to you. Long have we awaited your rebirth, and long will we rejoice as we return to you."  
  


The long whip of Yomigami's tail came forward, snapping the scroll they carried open and letting it unfurl until the end lay before Tobirama's legs in a gentle curl. Lying on the empty scroll was a brush. It looked simple, but something about it felt like…. More.  
  


He reached out--  
  


Takamagahara was blessed with resplendent sunlight. It was warm and bright--hovering on the cusp of spring and summer. Though the moon would rise when Amaterasu deigned to go to bed, for the most part the Gods enjoyed the warmth of their ruler's eternal sun.  
  


She sat, this afternoon, on the engawa of the weaving hall. Behind her was the clack of looms spinning silk and the cheerful voices of the gods and goddesses working them. It created a sound almost like a song, soothing and familiar.  
  


Amaterasu lifted her mirror in her hands, letting the light reflect off of it. Though no stormcloud stirred in her breast, of late her attention was drawn more and more to the world below. The gods often complained of lessening worship. There would be a time when she would move against this growing worship for those strange  _ trees _ and this man who was gaining power by spreading the idea of  _ ninshu _ . But that time has not yet come. Amaterasu would not make war easily and without proper thought, without understanding.  
  


She looked down, in the gleam of sun off her mirror, to take in the sights of this man and his young sons. Then the one with his fall of messy brown hair created  _ fire _ in his palm, and Amaterasu was  _ struck _ .  
  


"Oh," she breathed.  
  


"Amaterasu-omikami?" a soft voice said to her side. Wakahirume-no-Mikoto knelt beside her. "Has something happened?"  
  


" _ Look _ ," Amaterasu said, showing Wakahirume-no-Mikoto the image frozen on her mirror.  
  


Wakahirume-no-Mikoto gasped. "It's as if he holds a fraction of your brilliance in his hands."  
  


Curiosity and interest bloomed in Amaterasu's breast. She  _ must _ learn more. Her brothers had always said she couldn't leave anything be. She leaned over, the long fall of her resplendent white hair draping down around her, and pulled a scroll in front of her. She placed the mirror on it to keep the breeze from it's toying. Then reaching down to her side she lifted her celestial brush and—    
  


Tobirama woke up with a start just as the sun breached the horizon, heart pounding and a brush clutched in his outstretched hand.


	2. His Stripes

"Anija," Tobirama whispered, knelt over Hashirama's futon and the lump beneath the covers. "Hashirama." As disturbed as he was Tobirama was quickly reaching the end of his tether with trying to wake his brother up.  
  


With a low groan Hashirama rolled over, his hair plastered in random directions. He squinted blearily in the still dark room. "Tobi?"  
  


"Get up."  
  


Hashirama lay there unmoving. Tobirama was  _ very _ close to dragging him bodily out of bed when he was brought up short when Hashirama spoke again. "What's on your face?"  
  


Frowning, Tobirama sat back on his heels and touched his face. "There's nothing on my  _ face _ . Get up."  
  


"Yes there is!" Hashirama sat up, kicking his blankets away and reached out. He ran his fingers over the curve of Tobirama's cheek. "You've got stripes!"  
  


Tobirama jerked back, his hands coming up to his face in confusion. He was forced back further as Hashirama leapt out of bed, sleepiness forgotten, and ran over to open the shutters on the window to let the weak morning sunlight in. Then he grabbed a mirror off his desk and was back at Tobirama's side, on his knees in the mess of his bedding. "Look!"  
  


Look he did, and he found that Hashirama was  _ right _ . There were stripes on his face, one on either cheek and one on his chin. He touched one with careful fingers. They looked like the markings that had been on the dragon, only less numerous. It made his heart plunge suddenly. More  _ strangeness _ that he wouldn't be able to explain.  
  


"Father…."  
  


"Maybe they're clan markings," Hashirama broke in, speaking over him. It was the loud, lilting cadence he got when he wanted to make bad things disappear. "And they've just come in!"  
  


Tobirama snorted. He felt warm with Hashirama's care even as a part of him was frustrated with being interrupted. "Hatake don't have clan markings," he said. "And most of those are  _ tattoos _ , Anija. They don't just  _ appear _ ."  
  


With a groan, Hashirama slumped down into his blankets. "They  _ could _ . You don't know everything about every clan."  
  


It was annoying that, technically, Hashirama was right. Tobirama chose to ignore it. "Even if Father doesn't care it will make the rest of the clan talk." He let the hand holding the mirror fall to rest against his thigh. Hashirama's warm brown fingers wrapped around his wrist and squeezed.  
  


"Don't worry about them."  
  


It was easy for him to say that. Most people loved Hashirama— the heir, his personality and spirit,his  _ Senju _ born bloodline. Tobirama sighed. Adults were stupid, he knew that and he'd said so before. Most other kids were stupid too. It didn't matter.   
  


"Anija…" The sharp sound of purposeful footsteps made him snap his mouth shut against the words. Hashirama's door slid open a few inches and Father looked in at them. They both froze, waiting.  
  


Father had always been stern, but it had gotten worse once Mother died and then when they lost Kawarama… And now, after Itama's death and Hashirama's misbehavior. It felt like walking on nails: A constant prickle of stress, of waiting for the next sharp word or blow to fall. It left Tobirama feeling near breathless and uneasy even as it made him want to  _ bite _ . He felt confused as if all the rules had been unended and he didn't know them anymore, had to struggle to find the new ones.   
  


"Get ready," Father said. "I want you both on the training grounds in ten minutes." Then he was gone and the two of them let out a collective breath.  
  


Worries forgotten, Tobirama went to stand. He was stopped by Hashirama tightening his hold on his wrist. He looked down into wide, dark eyes. "Otouto… Was there something you needed?"  
  


Tobirama shot a wary glance to the still cracked door. "Later. It can wait."  
  


"Okay."  
  


—   
  


Tobirama flexed his sore fingers. His knuckles ached, red and bruised, from throwing punch after punch. His muscles felt liquidy and there were stinging spots all along his bare arms from where Father and his tutors had used their switches to correct his stance and point out weak spots. It was so hard to tell if the adults had been stricter on him because they were picking up his training or they because the new markings had given them pause. He  _ knew _ Katsuro-sensei was afraid of him. The man could kill without compunction but he jumped at ghosts.  
  


Touka had once muttered that the only part of killing and war that scared Katsuro-sensei was his fear of the ghosts of his enemies haunting him. But what affected Tobirama was that fear brought anger and that brought meanness. It was such a  _ useless _ cycle.  
  


He let his feet lead him through a strand of trees, past the gravestones and the shrine ( _ Good evening, Kawarama, Itama _ ) and to a secluded pond just inside the compound. It was fed by a tiny stream that had a metal grate over where it entered the wall. A secret water source, heavily hidden on the outside, should they ever be besieged. For Tobirama, however, it was a quiet place to work and escape.  
  


It was much safer than outside of the compound when he was already sore and tired. At the edges of the water he pulled his sandals off and tucked them against the base of one of the trees close to the bank. Channeling chakra into his feet as he stepped out onto the water was second nature by now. The water was smooth and cool under his bare feet, soothing after a day of hard work.   
  


Once in the middle of the pond Tobirama rolled his shoulders back, loosening stiff muscles, and sighed. Then, bringing his hands up, he settled into a ready stance and called more chakra up. He had to get faster with his hand signs, better with his control. He had to be  _ better _ .  
  


It was barely an hour later that something jarred him from his concentration. Tobirama let his control over the water swirling around him drop and listened. His skin crawled, prickling with goosebumps up the back of his arms and the nape of his neck.  
  


"Amaterasu-omikami," a sweet voice breathed. It bounced and flowed in the trickle of the two foot high waterfall on the edge of the pond. "Origin of all that is good and Mother to us all." The water beneath his feet rippled, and Tobirama looked down. A white ribbon slid through the water which looked far deeper than it rightly should. This shape below him lacked legs, horns, whiskers, and mane. A snake rather than a dragon. It was just as white as the dragon had been, and striped with red slashes.  
  


"All that is good?" he couldn't help but ask. His mind drifted to the way his clansmen's gaze skittered away, never met him head on. It wasn't respect that made them look away but fear of the red in his eyes. It was a fear ingrained by countless years of war. And with that fear came resentment that they had to feel afraid even in their own home.  
  


"Ah," the sweet voice sighed. The thick spine of the snake breached the surface, smooth scales flowing with water before it dipped back down. He could just make out the diamond shaped head slowly rising among the coils. When it breached the surface the head rose even further, curling up to meet him eye to eye. "I am sorry that mortal life has been unkind to you." A long, ink black tongue flicked out. "I, Nuregami, god of water, have waited for your awakening in the pools and streams. Allow me to bolster your strength so that you may flourish in this mortal shell."  
  


She— Nuregami was a she, and he didn't know how he knew that —twisted slowly around him, coils breaching and falling beneath the surface of the pond. None of her movements sent ripples across the surface. Tobirama continued to turn, following after her swaying head.  
  


"It's wrong, isn't it?" he asked. The question had been nagging him. "I can't be a sun goddess. I don't work with fire." Yet. He was going to master  _ all _ of the elemental releases one day. "I think you should look across the river." It stung a little to say. Slowly, it dawned on him that a small part of him had hoped that it was true— that he wasn't a youkai or apparition given form, too strange even for the Hatake blood in his veins. That he was something  _ good _ rather than an ill omen.  
  


"No," Nuregami said, her voice the trickle of water from the eaves. "You are Mother Amaterasu but you are also mortal Tobirama. You are yourself no matter the shape of your power or your form. We would know you anywhere for we are a part of you." Her great head ducked down, curling up under his arm until he was forced to lift it and splay his hand between her wide set eyes. She slid further up, his hand trailing along her cool spine. "While you regain your power let me guide you in the ways of water. Sun-warmed though it may be, as the Queen of the Heavens it is still yours to command."  
  


Her head came to hover before him again and Tobirama frowned at her. "You're going to stick around?" How he was expected to explain a  _ giant snake _ to his Father or the rest of the clan he had no idea. A summons…?  
  


"You can call on us, always," Nuregami said. Her liquid, unblinking, red eyes regarded him fondly. "You know the truth."  
  


And after a moment he  _ did _ . It wasn't quite a summons as he was thinking, but it wasn't  _ not _ . He could apply a similar look to it to cover up the truth if— It was a hard, sharp jab in his chest to realize he was  _ accepting _ this as  _ truth _ . He'd still been holding back, thinking this was a mistake and they had the wrong person. Or that he was… hallucinating, or dreaming, or  _ something _ . A trick of the mind. Maybe he'd been stuck in a genjutsu since that day at the river. That same thing that had hurt earlier when he'd tried to convince Nuregami that she had the wrong person panged again.  
  


The unbridled love and joy that Nuregami had for him, even more bright than his brother's love, felt too good to be true.  
  


"Tobira— " Speaking of his brother. His name turned into a strangled squeak and both Tobirama and Nuregami turned their heads to look at the tangle of vegetation that shielded the pond from the rest of the compound.   
  


Hashirama stood there, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. Then his expression firmed with a hidden flicker of fear and he made a quick hand sign. Roots burst up out of the ground and the trees creaked ominously. "Don't worry! I'll help you!"  
  


"Anija, don't!"  
  


But it was too late, the roots were already lancing toward Nuregami's gleaming side. She reared up, mouth opening with a musical hiss. A jet of water exploded from her mouth, cutting through the roots. Tobirama used the distraction to bound across the water and tackle his brother.   
  


"Hashirama, stop. She's not dangerous!"  
  


"Tobi, that is a  _ giant snake _ and it was about to  _ eat you _ ."  
  


The two of them struggled, wrestling back and forth in the grass until they fetched up, suddenly, against a gleaming white coil. Hashirama went still, gaping up past Tobirama's head. A long black tongue flicked briefly into view.  
  


"Do not worry, little monkey," Nuregami crooned. "I am no danger to you or your brother."  
  


Hashirama wheezed. Whether it was from shock, the nickname, or Tobirama purposefully kneeing him in the side as he moved Tobirama was uncertain. "Be polite, Anija."  
  


"Are....are you a summon?" Hashirama asked, faintly. His hands came up, twisting into Tobirama's shirt.  
  


Nuregami slithered closer, surrounding them in a wall of red and white scales. "Not quite. I am one of the thirteen brush gods--aspects of Amaterasu-omikami's power." Her head came down and the underside of her jaw brushed affectionately at Tobirama's shoulder.  
  


Hashirama gave another little wheeze of a sound. "A god." His wide, dark eyes slid from Nuregami over to Tobirama and back again before his expression firmed up. "What do you want with my brother?"  
  


With a groan, Tobirama tried to pull Hashirama's hands free from his clothing. "I said to be  _ polite _ , no an overprotective idiot. It's  _ fine _ ."  
  


Luckily, Nuregami sounded  _ amused _ when she spoke next. "Ah, little monkey, I only wished to reunite with Amaterasu-omikami."  
  


It was dawning, slowly, on Tobirama that this was real. It didn't usually take this long for information to sink in. He was  _ fast _ with his thoughts. But this…. Nausea gathered in his stomach. Hashirama could see Nuregami. Nuregami was real. If Nuregami was real, then Yomigami was real. Both of the gods called  _ him _ Amaterasu-omikami. The dream, or memory, that he'd had—   
  


" _ I'm _ Amaterasu?" he asked. It hit him, sudden and hard. " _ How? _ "  
  


" _ What? _ " Hashirama yelped. Tobirama ignored him and turned to stare up at Nuregami.  
  


With a sad sound Nuregami lowered her head to look at him. "There are things that can kill even a god," she said mournfully. "You were struck down and Yomigami was able to gather your divine soul.They guided it into the mortal coil so that we could await your return."  
  


Hashirama shoved at him until Tobirama let him sit up. His face was twisted up with what Tobirama realized was  _ fear _ . With a faint noise Hashirama said, "Tobi can't Amaterasu! He's my brother!"  
  


Nuregami's head shifted sideways until her great eyes were focused on Hashirama. "And?"  
  


"Are you going to take him away?" Hashirama's lower lip began to quiver and his eyes took on a familiar glossy sheen.  
  


Tobirama's heart panged and he reached out to clutch at Hashirama's hand. He  _ couldn't _ leave his brother alone. Not after they'd already lost Kawarama and Itama. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might be expected to  _ leave _ .  
  


"No," Nuregami said, long tongue flicking out. The soft sound of scales sliding over scales sounded around them as Nuregami's body shifted. "He cannot return to the Heavens as he is now so I could not take him. He is too mortal."  
  


"Oh." Hashirama slumped in relief, head connecting hard with Tobirama's shoulder. His brother was rock headed enough to deal with it.  
  


Frowning, Tobirama considered the great snake. His mind was full of questions. So many, in fact, that he couldn't sort them out to begin asking them. The sudden nearby call of a crow startled both of them: Tobirama flinched and Hashirama nearly jumped out of his skin.  
  


"Oh!" Hashirama gasped. "Tobi! I came to get you—"  
  


It was only then that Tobirama became aware of how his stomach felt: curdled inward in a small aching pit. They two of them hadn't gotten breakfast and had only had a small lunch when they'd been allowed a break. If they were late they wouldn't be getting any supper either.  
  


"We have to go," he said, cutting across Hashirama's rambling. "But…."  
  


Her coils slowly parted as he stood and pulled Hashirama to his feet with him. "We will always come to you when you need us." Then she was gone in a strange wink of green and gold light, like sunset over open water.  
  


"You have more stripes!" Hashirama said, poking at Tobirama's shoulder. "Look!"  
  


Rolling his eyes, Tobirama dragged Hashirama after him as he marched toward home. "Anija, we don't have time for this."  
  


"Why do you think your snake friend called me 'little monkey'?"  
  


—  
  


The honored elders of the clan sat before the two of them, silent now and waiting.  
  


Madara looked up from where he sat at Father's side. He was to be quiet and listen, to only speak if spoken to as he was whenever he sat in on Father's meetings. This was the second one about Senju Tobirama. Today was time for Father to decide what to do about him. Something cold sat in Madara's stomach at the thought, but he couldn't let it affect him. Even if a small part of him couldn't stop thinking about Hashirama and how he'd feel if something were to happen to Izuna.  
  


"Send out the order to capture him," Father said finally. "He's young yet."  
  


That cold feeling grew in Madara but he kept his thoughts and questions firmly clamped behind his teeth. Father would only scold and punish him if he let them out and his disappointment would be great. Madara had chosen his family, his clan, and if that meant they needed to capture Hashirama's last little brother to keep the favor of their gods then so be it.  
  


He would follow the decisions of his honored Father and clan head.  
  


Father motioned at the runner near the door. He stood and bowed low. "Yes, Tajima-sama. I will spread the word."  
  


The look on the age worn faces across from them was a mix of satisfaction and consternation. Madara looked away from them, down at his hands, and began to collect his thoughts. Father would ask him after the meeting finished and he had to remove his lingering sympathies for the Senju.   
  


At least he had to remove them from his voice. If he couldn't help but harbor them, small and aching, deep within himself well…. That was Madara's secret battle and no one else's. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggling real hard with these little shits. It's hard trying to balance child characters that pretty much already have so much PTSD and have grown up so fast. Oof. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was supposed to have more Uchiha in it, but Tobirama took over so I guess that'll wait until next chapter. (Also, I have no idea how fast I'll be with the next or any in the future. Chronic Depression really makes my productivity hit and miss.)
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for the huge response to this. Nearly scared my anxiety ridden behind right off the internet :P I love you all.


End file.
